Dried meat has different associations for me.
There’s the stereotypical Wild West gold-prospector angle (gnarled, weather-beaten men with beards gnawing on leathery strips of beef). There’s the time H and I tried to make our own biltong in a home-made drying box (it turned out more like crumbly meat biscuits). Finally, there’s a painful memory of buying lots of delicious salmon jerky in a Canadian airport, only to have to throw it all away when we reached UK customs.
